Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/41

With helm and spear-point flashing high,
    The tournay's mimic pride,
They traced, where Ouse ran murmuring by
    With pure and glittering tide.
Yea, even the abbot, grave and old,
    His stern rebuke would spare,
Since every Warrior rudely bold,
    Knelt low at mass and prayer.

In troublous times, these martial guests
    Protection might bestow,
And kindness won even steel-clad breasts
    To love a stranger foe.
So, when the royal mandate bade
    Forth from those walls to go,
And quit old Ely's hallowed shade,
    Each warrior drooped with wo.

Silent and slow, as loth to part,
    The long procession sped,
While arm in arm and heart to heart,
    Each monk his soldier led.
On cope and cross and banner proud
    The western sunbeam fell,
As 'neath old Hadenham's oaks they bowed
    To take a last farewell.

The holy brethren, sad and grieved,
    Resumed their duties meek,
While the chill tear from hearts bereaved
    Went coursing down their cheek;
And when upon the escutcheoned wall
    Those blended arms they viewed,
Both lonely cell and lighted hall,
    The parting pang renewed.

'Mid Norman fields in bloody fray
    The knights their prowess tried,